


Pop your cherry

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost B.C.
Genre: Cunnilingus, Edgeplay, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play, back massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr prompt:How do you think Papa III / Copia would have sex with a shy, 18+ virgin girl?
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Original Female Character(s), Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Original Female Character(s), Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	Pop your cherry

**Papa III** is trying not to look like the cat that got the cream, but he likes to own nice things and he can’t wait to own your ass. Sure, he loves experienced women—there’s some about a woman that knows what she likes (and how to take it) that gets him from 0 to 60—but the idea that he gets to be the one to direct you how he likes is a slow simmer in his stomach.

He’s definitely going to show off just how thoughtful a lover he is. The minute you step into his quarters you’re hit with the sweet smell of incense, and you can see what looks like near 100 candles giving off the only light in the room.

(You’re a little worried about the lush draperies catching fire.) 

Papa III is wearing a silk robe you think may be a woman’s in cut, but it drapes nicely over the hard planes of his torso. He’s smiling and holding up another for you.

“Don’t worry, I turn around,” he says and puts a gloved hand up to his eyes, “No peeking.”

You take the proffered robe from him—drawing the smooth fabric through your fingers—and he turns away from you, arms crossed behind his back. With alacrity you slip out of your clothes and into the voluminous robe, lest he turn around anyway. The cloth is cool on your skin at first, but warms quickly. The feel of it dragging and shifting over your skin is delicious, and you can see why he chose it.

You tell him you’re ready, and he turns back around—his eyes roving hungrily and approvingly up and down your form. You instinctively try to wrap the robe tighter around your body, and he chuckles at your attempt.

“Not yet,” he clucks, “in due time.”

He reaches and grabs your hand, the lambskin-gloved fingers brushing lightly over your knuckles before bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss. While you’re distracted by the slightly moist, warm lips feathering the sensitive skin on the back of your hand, Papa III pulls you into him—his other hand slithering down your back to rest at the small of it.

His presence is a little nerve-wracking, but the touch grounds you as he guides you over to his four-poster bed. It’s hard to tell in the soft lighting, but you’re sure the sheets and drapes are silk too.

He helps get you situated on top of the sheets—your hands and knees slip a bit on the slinky materiel—and bids you to lie down on your stomach. You’re a little embarrassed that—lying down—the robe fails to cover your ass, and you’re glad you decided to keep on your lace panties. 

You did wear them especially for him after all.

When Papa III doesn’t immediately join you on the bed, you crane your neck to discern where he is. You can see him fussing with something on top of his ornate table. When he sees you peering over at him, he waggles his finger at you.

“Ah, ah, ah—no peeking. We do something first to relax you, yes? But close your eyes.”

You obey him, face melting into the down pillow you’re resting on. Soon enough you feel the bed dip and him hovering over you. He lightly runs his hands down your back, rucking up your robe as they travel back up. You tense a little—you’re practically nude already and the lace panties are immodest at best—but he places a hand on the nape of your neck and leans down to whisper into your ear to _relax_.

His breath on your ear makes you shiver in pleasure, and you obey his veiled command. His weight shifts and you can feel him rest on his haunches over the back of your thighs. He places something soft and light on the small of your back and says, “We start with this, ok?”

You mumble your ascent, and it becomes clear rather quickly that the item is a feather. You expect it to tickle, but the way drags the tip and its edges up your spine and back down your sides is firm enough that it ignites your desire instead. You had no idea someone lightly touching your back could feel _so good_, and you don’t even realize you’re rubbing against the bed until Papa III puts a hand on your ass to still you.

“I have not given you permission for that yet.”

You let out a huff in agitation and he gives you small slap on your ass—nothing hard, more like a firm pat—in warning.

“No brats here tonight. You be my good girl. Good girls receive nice things. Can you do that? Can you be Papa’s good girl?”

You’re quick to agree with him.

The next thing you feel are his bare hands on your back, firm but reverential. He strokes them over your expanse of skin, and it feels good in a different way than the feather—more comforting than sensual. You feel him drip something on your back—it’s massage oil, and the spicy scent relaxes you further.

You’re expecting that he’s going to quickly rub you down, but he proceeds to give you a god’s honest massage—his hands and thumbs digging into the knots and sore spots. Every now and then his hands wander down to massage each cheek of your ass, fingers dipping dangerously toward your pussy. You can’t quite decide if you’re relived or disappointed he never quite makes it.

Finally, his ministrations slow and he’s leaning down to kiss the length of your spine. Like the feather, the touch is sensual—going straight to your clit. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the small of your back, instead turning into playful nips on your cheeks. You can feel his erection on the back of your claves as he shifts lower. He pauses, hovering above your sweet spot, and you think

he might

But he gives one last kiss to the meat of your cheek before he’s climbing back off the bed. You’re boneless, aroused—and confused. You want to cry out, but you remember that you promised to be good.

When he comes back to the bed, he sits next to you, tilting your head so you’re resting on his unclothed thigh. His robe is wrapped tightly against him, but the tent of his hard cock is obvious. He’s petting your hair and holds up an incongruous candle.

“We try something, yes? Special wax. Made for feeling good on the skin. You don’t like? We stop.”

You want to please him so bad, but you’re not sure. He’s looking at you questioningly, though—his mismatched eyes boring into you—waiting for your consent. You ask if it will hurt, and he grins at you wickedly.

“Only in the most delicious way.”

You’re still not 100% sold on this, but you trust that if you ask him to stop, he will. He’s pleased with your acquiescence, a small boy holding in his glee that one of his schemes has passed. 

And it’s. 

It’s amazing. The slight sting as the wax hits your skin. The tingle as he peels it off. You’re throbbing again between your legs in no time, trying your best not to squirm to find some pressure to relieve it. Papa III uses your whole body as his canvas—the wax finds its way onto your thighs and even the soles of your feet, not just your back.

You’re so lost in the sensations—your skin a raw pleasure nerve—that you don’t immediately notice that he’s stopped. Or that he’s lowered your panties.

His hand slithers over your bare cheeks, then dips down to press at your perineum. You let out a long moan—finally some pressure—and arch upward at his touch.

“Ah—you’re wet for your Papa. So good.”

You think he’s going to ease his fingers into you, but he seems content to slip them up and down your slit—as much as he can from this angle—only occasionally stopping to press the pad of his finger to your hole. You’re clutching at the sheets, no doubt wrinkling them, and writhing around despite your best efforts to stay still. Regardless of your initial nerves, you _want_ him to insert one of his long fingers.

He stops and you manage to swallow a whine just in time.

Papa III lets out a muffled moan, and you look over your shoulder just in time to see him licking every last drop of you off his fingers. He catches your gaze as he tongues at them.

“Very good. You are doing so well.”

You preen at the praise.

“Think you can try one more for me?

You nod eagerly and chuckles at you. He pulls your panties the rest of the way off, but lets you wind the robe back around you as you right yourself. He hops off the bed, back to his magic table, and you wonder if he’d see you pressing your fingertips against your clit.

Probably.

Papa III returns and sidles up next to you on the bed. He holds out his palm and in it you can see a silver bullet with a black ring around the middle. You look at him quizzically, and he takes the item between his thumb and forefinger of both hands and twists. The vibrator whirs to life, and you gape at it.

“Yes?” he asks, holding your eyes with his intense ones.

You’re not sure … but everything else he’s tried has been wonderful, so you slowly nod. He kisses your temple and gets comfortable next to you, but your sole focus is on the buzzing of the vibrator in his hand. You think he’s going to immediately insert it into you, but instead he draws it across your body in lazy circles. It feels ok, maybe a little ticklish—but then he’s holding it on and dragging it across your clothed nipples.

You gasp out an _Oh_ as a jolt of arousal courses through you. The bastard smirks and slowly—_slowly_—works the tip of the vibrator under the lapel of your robe. You allow him to maneuver your robe open, breasts spilling out, so he can have direct contact with your nipples. 

He grins and leans over to lave at them, alternating between his wet tongue and the vibrator. Your clit is throbbing between your legs, and you’ve been slick and sticky since he massaged you there. Forgetting yourself in the haze of pleasure, you begin to rhythmically squeeze your thighs together.

Suddenly both his tongue and the vibrator stop.

Papa III makes a _tetch_ sound, displeased.

“Ah, ah, ah, little one,” he scolds. “I control your pleasure tonight.”

His words should be condescending, but instead you’re shivering with pleasure, heat rising to your face. His hands begin to stroke up and down your sides and flanks.

“Mmm … but perhaps I am? Being too harsh for your first time.”

His hands start slowly roving over your thighs.

“To never have been touched so … intimately before.”

A finger lightly traces the seam of your slit.

“Perhaps that has been patient enough, no?

Your eyes are too busy rolling back in your head to answer him, but he’s probably not expecting one anyway.

Next he is slinking down your body—kissing here, caressing there—until he is positioned on his stomach between your legs. You feel him separate your lips with his fingers and then his tongue in on your clit, warm and wet. You bow nearly off the bed—after all the teasing the direct touch is almost too much.

He moans at your reaction, but continues lapping at your nub. You’re trying hard not to thrash too much, but you’re so close already. Suddenly there is a slight pressure at your opening, and then you feel the vibrator in you.

It’s

too

much

And you go off, whining and bucking as a hot, intense orgasm crashes through you. Your pussy is popping and clenching in ways you’ve never felt before, and when you bear down you feel a warm trickle as you squirt all over his face. You feel a faint tug of embarrassment, but Papa III is still steadily lapping you through your aftershocks.

When you finally relax, he sits up, dabbing his face and smearing the paint with a towel you never even saw him bring. You want to apologize, but he’s looking down at you with hooded, predatory eyes—his hand blatantly working himself through the part in his askew robe. It’s a nice cock—above average, but not especially large in length or girth.

Your orgasmic haze is clearing, and you realize the vibrator is still on and in you. You begin to squirm at the sensitivity—maybe you can work it out of you—but he stills you with a palm to your stomach.

“Can you take, hm? Can you try? Try to take it for me?”

And well. That you can do: you can try.

He rips the robe off his body—he’s got some nice definition on his slender frame, and could probably be jacked if he tried—and snuggles in behind you. He pulls you into his chest and you can feel his hard cock against your ass—a sensation that both alarms and excites you, making your stomach swoop.

The vibrator is beginning to feel good again, but it’s not enough direct stimulation to fully arouse you. Papa III, as always, is 2 steps ahead of you—he reaches around your torso so he can dip his fingers between your folds. You try to mash your clit into his touch as he kisses at the slope of your shoulder and neck. You feel yourself getting close again, his clever fingers never tiring, 

when he stops.

You think he must just be adjusting, but when it’s clear he’s not going to move again, you start wriggling.

“Somebody’s eager,” he growls into your ear as he starts up the gentle swipe of his fingers again.

It becomes a game to him—getting you close, then stopping before you can rise over the precipice. You’re not even trying to stay still anymore, writhing and undulating in his embrace—not sure if you want the sweet release or if you want him to edge you further.

You feel your pussy start to spasm again—a sure sign he is going to back off once more—but this time his finger only speeds up and he sucks onto the side of your mouth in a searing, sloppy kiss. You feel like you’re flying as your climax finally builds and then crashes you down in waves so hard you think you might start crying. You clench so hard the the vibrator actually does pop out of you.

All the while Papa III’s finger is still stroking your sensitive clit and he’s whispering calming words into your ear. You realizes he’s been holding you in a tight embrace as you moan and thrash about.

When you finally calm down, you throw your arm over your eyes and just start giggling—the endorphins have you high as a kite. You realize that Papa III is rutting in small jerks into you and pleading in your ear.

“Can I have you now? Can I have you like this? With you held close and safe to me?”

He can have you upside down while playing the kazoo, to be honest.

You must make enough of a verbal consent because he’s hitching your one leg back over his thigh. Gentle, exploratory fingers prod at you and he moans that you’re _So wet_, before you feel the blunt pressure of his cock at your entrance.

Somewhere in the back of your head a voice is trying to tell you to be nervous, but you’re pretty sure you just saw the workings of the universe, so you’re relaxed and soft as he pushes in.

There’s a slight burn and an unfamiliar stretch that ground you enough to start feeling yourself inside your body again, but Papa is nothing if not a skilled lover. He thrusts in slow, gentle movements; his one hand traces your lips and clit; his other gently gently brushes and tweaks over your nipples. He is alternatively sucking into your neck and murmuring nonsense praises into your ear.

“What a good girl. _My_ good girl. Look at how well you take my pleasure. So good for me. You’ve done so well.”

You relax and lose yourself to his ministrations, letting his body and whispered words guide your burgeoning pleasure. You can only tell he’s getting close because his body becomes more rigid and his teeth sharper at your shoulder. He’s squeezing your nipples harder and pressing more insistently to your clit. 

“Ah, mmm … can you cum one more time for me?”

Given enough time you’re sure you can, but you can tell Papa III is close, and he hasn’t cum once yet. You whine in distress, but he shushes you and slows to a stop. You can hear and feel him panting behind you. He begins playing your body like a fiddle, hands and finger suddenly everywhere—stroking and flicking everything. Every now and then he’ll pump into you again, and it only serves to bring you closer to your last orgasm.

Frankly you’re exhausted, but he manages to eke out of you one last demi-orgasm—something soft and comforting in it’s pleasure—before he’s thrusting into you faster and deeper. He changes your positions suddenly—up onto his knees, holding your one leg splayed around him. You can _feel_ him become impossibly harder until he surprises you by pulling out—hungry eyes intent on you—and he strokes off over you, cum splattering warm and sticky on your stomach and thighs. 

Then he collapses in on himself and over you, rubbing his hot, throbbing cock though the mess he left as he works himself through the aftershocks. When he’s sated, he cuddles you into him, ignoring the mess between you.

He works his fingers into your hair and kisses you with an uncharacteristic shyness. His other hand strokes up and down your sweaty back. 

“Hmm … ah. Apologies. You felt too good.”

You assure him in truth that’s it fine—that it was kind of hot watching him finally lose control. The two of you lay like that for a while, drawing nonsense patterns on each other’s dewy skin. Finally he clambers off the bed, drawing you with him.

“We need to get clean, no? Such a mess,” he tsks pleasantly.

He ushers you into his bathroom so he can gently wash you in his shower—and did you know? He’s got a detachable showerhead—while he summons some low-level ghouls to change the sheets.

He wouldn’t dream of you you spending the night anywhere else.

* * *

**Cardinal Copia** is a little nervous. He wants to please you, but if you don’t know what you like, he’s worried he won’t give you a good time. He’s overly solicitous when you enter his chambers. He’s not really great at seduction—as part of the higher Clergy and as a performer during Rituals, it’s not like he has much need. He likes sex and he loves making his partners feel as good as possible, so he’s usually bluntly direct about it.

He reaches out a hand, the implication that you coming to him is under your control. You’re nervous, sure, but you _want_ this. You step forward and tentatively place your hand in his, only noticing now that he’s still wearing his leather gloves. He firmly, but gently, pulls you into his side, his supple gloves rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back and the web of your hand where it’s still clasped in his.

It’s … it’s a little overwhelming and you start to shake with nerves. But Copia just holds you—his arms encircling you—and gently sways you back forth while whispering nonsense endearments in your ear. You can feel more than hear him breath in the scent of your hair before he’s planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. His lips are plump and warm, and you’d like to feel them on your own.

You tilt your head up to look at him, his white eye feeling like it’s gazing into your very core. He palms your cheek with one hand, the soft leather swiping lightly at your cheekbone.

“Yes … ?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes.”

He leans forward to press his lips against yours. They’re as soft as you thought they’d be. Though there’s no tongue (yet!), there’s intent in the pressure of the kiss, and you feel butterflies of excitement. You press into him a little harder, lips parting slightly in invitation. From what you’ve heard around, you expect Copia to devour your mouth, but his tongue slides in smooth as melted butter. 

Kissing him is safe, just your lips and tongues working in tandem, but it’s still enough to stoke the ember of arousal in your stomach. You deepen the kiss, experimentally nipping at his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue. There is a slight vibration you can feel from his chest as he swallows a moan.

You’d been expecting his hands to wander, to take liberties, but the one he placed on your cheek has only migrated up into your hair, and the other is softly rubbing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes and says, “More?”

You nod your head eagerly, only slightly anxious at what “more” is to be. Copia guides you down onto the edge of the bed, sitting next to you. He feels you become a little tense now that your mind is no longer occupied, but he comforts you with a shush and a swipe of his thumb over your lips. Leaning in, he starts pressing light kisses to the line of your jaw. There’s a hand on your thigh, but it’s not doing much more than rubbing circles.

His mouth travels to the spot right below your ear, and the gentle pressure at the sensitive spot has you shivering. Lips and tongue are now caressing the lines and shell of your ear. The soft sensuality of it goes right to your core and has you squeezing your thighs together. There’s an “mmm” of approval from Copia, and then he’s lightly blowing in your ear; the sensation of the air on the wet lines from his tongue send another jolt through you, and you twitch involuntarily, letting out a quiet, surprised moan. 

He’s got his face now pressed into you neck as he continues the assault of barely-there kisses down it’s column to the juncture of your shoulder. His gloved fingers softly trace your skin as he gently pulls back the neck of your top for better access. Your heart is racing and the ember of arousal is heating up between your legs. You’re slightly squeezing your thighs rhythmically, and the hand on your leg shifts upward into the crease of your hip.

Your heart skips a beat when you think he’s going to slid his hand in between your legs, but it sneaks under the hem of your shirt instead.

“Ok?” he mummers from your collarbone.

You nod vigorously and you can feel the soft leather of his gloves skimming over your stomach and petting the curve of your waist. He’s working his mouth back up to your lips when you feel the hesitant swipe of his thumb over a cup of bra. You hadn’t even realized how hard your nipples were, and the teasing sensation of his thumb has you bucking slightly. Copia catches your moan in his mouth as he continues swiping at your nipple through your bra, alternating between both breasts.

There’s a definite throb between your legs now, and you’re squirming to find some pressure. Copia just tsks at you and tells you to be patient. It’s a subtle reminder that he’s in charge here. Somehow he’s unhooked your bra and you feel it loosen around you. He’s motioning you to scoot up the bed and lay down, which you do slowly because you’re busy watching him take off his waistcoat and roll up his sleeves. He does it with a practiced ease you find sexy.

He asks you to take off your top, but you’re suddenly nervous again now that your brain isn’t throbbing between your legs. Seeing your hesitation, he smiles kindly and makes a rolling motion with his pointer finger. Taking his meaning, you roll over onto your stomach and let him help you out of your shirt and bra. He pets your bare back in a bid to get you to relax your muscles.

The bed shifts and you feel him straddle you. There’s a half a second of panic when you feel his bulge on your ass, but he shifts again and you feel the drag of his suede suit on your back before he’s planting a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. You shiver with pleasure as he starts trailing kisses and his tongue down the dip of your spine. You’re practically melting into the bed as he repeats this back up again.

He finally coaxes you to turn over and gently removes your arms from your chest. Copia pauses then, drinking in the shape of your breasts with hooded eyes, and you’re reminded that he isn’t unaffected. Before you have a chance to dwell on what happens next, he’s leaning down and taking a nipple between his lips. You feel his tongue flick over the nub and your toes curl. He’s managed to get a glove off and those fingers are gently rolling and squeezing your other nipple.

The sensations are making all the blood flow to your cunt, and you’re bucking as much as possible with his weight on top of you. He begins to alternate between both breasts, switching tongue with finger. You know you’re wet because your panties are sticking to you and the throbbing of your clit is only escalating. You realize you’ve got your hands gripped in his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He looks up at you, head resting on your stomach and says, “Ah! So sensitive. Maybe some other time we get you off like this, no? But tonight I have other plans. I go lower, yes?”

You feel another round of butterflies at the thought of further nipple play, but you’re eager for some attention on your clit. So far the only pressure you’ve felt has been from your own thighs. 

He makes his way slowly down your stomach, hands trailing after him. He mouths at the zipper of your pants, looking up at you as he catches it in his teeth and pulls it down. You expect him to start yanking off your pants, but instead he starts kissing the crotch and huffing warm air. It’s at once too much and not enough. You cry out, “Please!” and you hear him chuckle.

“Please what? You want me to stop?” he teases.

“No,—I, I, I…your mouth. _Please_,” you babble incoherently.

He sits up, violently shucking off his shirt. He’s not a muscular man, but he’s got some definition—bulky in the way athletes fill out when they stop training. His chest is spotted with freckles and there is a down of hair on his chest. 

You’re distracted, so it takes you by surprise when he starts to wriggle you out of your pants. You lift your ass and to help him divest you. Soon you are both under the covers, but the sheet is tented enough over your bent knees to see him; he’s back on you, mouth kissing down your stomach and his hands spreading your legs open wider.

You’re shivering with nerves, so he puts a calming hand on your stomach as he begins to trace the outside of your lips with his tongue. It’s a barely there drag up one side and down the other. Then the tip is tracing the seam, taking a moment to wriggle at your hole before it’s worked itself into your folds.

It’s been such a sweet torture up until now, but suddenly his tongue is pressing insistently on your clit and you’re bucking up at the direct contact. He’s following your hips, his tongue never breaking contact. You’re moaning and panting, feeling at once like you’re going to cum immediately and like it might take forever.

Gradually you get lost in the sensation of his ever-changing rhythm, and so it startles you when you feel a slight touch at your entrance. You tense a little, but nothing more happens. Copia’s really going to town now—getting you close, then backing off. You whine at each interruption but he just chuckles at you. With all his teasing you don’t realize he’s been increasing the pressure of his fingertip to your hole. In fact, the sensation kind of feels good.

It seems like he’s being going down on you for an hour—you’re panting and squirming and whining for release, when suddenly his tongue goes off. For a second you almost feel weightless, suspended in time in the calm before your climax crashes over you. If you weren’t so lost in the waves of your orgasm you might even be embarrassed by the noises you’re making and by the way your body is twitching with the pleasure of each wave.

He licks you through the whole thing, and when his tongue finally slows you feel clam and boneless. He’s still idly licking you, tongue lazily tracing your folds, and it takes you a moment to realize he’d managed to slip his finger into you. The pressure is weird and a little uncomfortable, but not as painful as you feared it’d be.

Copia very slowly starts to ease it in and out of you. He’s looking up at you from in between your legs still, so he can see your slightly-fearful expression. His tongue finds your clit and begins to flick you again. It’s slightly off-putting to go again so soon, but he’s so gentle that the ember ramps up quicker than you thought possible. The sensation of his finger mingles with that on your clit, and you find your arousal even more intense and needy.

You feel him start to slip another finger inside you and—before you can even be worried—the stretch of it launches you into a surprise orgasm that has you bowing off the bed and your thighs clamping hard against his head. It feels so strange for your muscles to have something to clench against, but also so, so good.

When the buzzing in your ears stops, you come back into yourself to find that Copia’s head is leaned against your one thigh, eyes closed, and that he is rutting against the bed. He looks up at you and his white eye is almost black with arousal. You feel lazy and sloppy with your two orgasms, so you clench around his fingers again, and he shudders and moans.

“Let me…? Please?” he begs you.

There is a sudden swoop in your stomach as you remember why you’re here, but you nod shakily. He slowly withdraws his fingers from you, using his tongue to ease the way, and—where not too long ago it felt odd to be filled—you suddenly feel the loss.

Copia scrambles out of the bed and is quick with shucking off his pants; you gape at the girth of his cock, which is jutting out—red and flushed—from his pelvis. He grabs some lube and a condom from his table before sliding back into bed with you.

If you were worried he’d go right for you, you’re pleasantly surprised; while it’s a little more aggressive than when the two of you started, he starts with kissing you—your mouth, your jaw, your neck. He’s lost both gloves at this point and he’s got one hand roving over your breasts and nipples and the other tapping lightly on your clit. It’s so many sensations all at once—especially with how sated you felt not moments before—and you’re quickly a needy mess again. 

His fingers are beginning to lack the deftness you’ve become accustomed to—they’re swiping up and down your slit, spreading your growing wetness out and over your folds. You can feel his hardness on your hip, his precum leaving a trail.

You can’t believe how desperate you are to cum again, when Copia rolls you both over so you’re straddling him. You had been expecting him to mount you, but he’s rubbing your thighs and saying, “This will be easier for you, yes? More control.”

You’re grateful, but also a little nervous. He smiles and maneuvers the sheet so it’s draped around your shoulders, which makes you feel a little better. Then he’s rolling on the condom and pouring on a generous amount of lube. He’s holding the base of his cock steady, and you shakily position yourself over him. You reach behind you to help guide him to your entrance. The pressure of his blunt cockhead is way more than those two fingers, so you give yourself a moment to get used to the feeling.

Under you Copia is giving you a pained smile that you think is supposed to be reassuring. You slowly ease yourself down onto his cock. You’re taking deep, steady breaths as the pressure increases hard and harder until

His cockhead suddenly pops inside you and you slide down his shaft. There’s a slight sting, and you’re panting at the impossible stretch of finally having something so large filling you. Copia lets out a hissed _FUCK_ and gives a barely restrained twitch of his hips. His mismatched eyes are glazed with lust and his hands are grabbing at your hips. You’re panting and maybe beginning to panic a little.

Copia wrenches himself upright and catches you into an embrace. He’s peppering your face with kisses, his hands running soothingly up and down your back. He’s encouraging you to move your hips as he mumbles quietly to you in Italian.

It’s a slow process—and by the end of it he’s shaking—but you finally are adjusted enough that the burn no longer feels uncomfortable as you move. He’s trying his best to let you control the speed and thrust, but you can tell it’s becoming harder for him to hold back. You’re thighs are beginning to burn with the effort anyway, so you have him maneuver you onto your back.

He’s propped up on his knees and hands now over you, thrusting slowly but steadily into you, grunting each time he enters you. It’s still a strange feeling, but it’s getting better. He leans back onto his haunches, sucks a finger into his mouth, then applies the pad of it to your clit. 

The dual sensation of his cock pushing into you and the pressure on you clit is beginning to do it for you. You’re panting and flushed as he works into you in a steady rhythm, all while flicking his finger over your throbbing nub. Soon though his thrusts begin to become unsteady and his finger is periodically pausing in its movement.

Copia falls back over you again, eyes closed and pressing his forehead to your shoulder, as he begins to pump into you faster. You whine at the loss of stimulations on your clit, which prompts him to work your hand in between your sweaty bodies.

He’s begging you to take care of yourself whispering _Please, please_ into your skin. As he mouths and sucks on your neck, you worm your hand down and take up where he left off. It take a bit for you to find an angle and tempo that you like—not to mention having to account for Copia’s growing enthusiasm into your body—but you finally get there. You’re surprised at how close you are—you could probably finish yourself off fairly quickly if you wanted.

Copia’s mouth finds yours in a sloppy trial of saliva, and he doesn’t so much kiss you as flick his tongue in and out of your mouth. He’s moaning and shaking, imploring you to cum. It’s clear he’s holding back his orgasm and it’s beginning to wear on him. Heat pulls heavily in your gut to know you are the cause of his wanton lust. 

You ride the wave of that arousal, going to town on your clit. Your climax isn’t as intense as when he got you off with his tongue, but you still tingle with a pleasant tug in your abdomen as you cum hard enough that you’re worried the clench of your walls around him might be painful.

That worry is for naught however when you feel Copia lock up and hear him growl in rolling Rs before he buries himself in you so hard you’re moved up the bed. He collapses on you, grunting softly with each thrust of his aftershocks. You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, and he places little kisses to your collarbone.

The two of you lay like that briefly before he is slowly rolling off of and carefully pulling out of you. He burritos you in the sheets, applying a kiss to your forehead. He tells you to relax, and makes his way to the bathroom. You expect he’s taking care of the condom—maybe grabbing a washcloth—but soon you hear the gush of water filling a tub. The while noise of it lulls you into a doze …

You awaken from chaste kisses to your face and lips. You’re a bit disgruntled when Copia unfurls you from your cocoon, but you feel warm all over again when you step into the bathroom and see he has lit candles and prepared a steaming hot bath.

“For your soreness, yes?”

Nodding you allow him to help you into the tub. The near-scalding water is a good balm, and it’s nice when he slips in behind you to massage your neck and shoulders. 

Maybe the Rat does have some game after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [First Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694564) by [KassieProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet)


End file.
